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Omiai

There are things you talk about when you talk about running. Terms you use when you whisper about kissing. Currency words, unique identifiers.

Passkeys.

There is a look that a lover will give you when they want your touch, but don't want to hear themselves saying it out loud.

A nod of the chin, a curling of a lip.

Criteria to be judged. An idea introduced, like iegara from a trusted Nakōdo.

Hashikake, the bridge.Onegai Shimasu, the request.Omiai, the meeting.

"The problem is that you never give me anything." She wrote. "Or toput it more precisely, you have nothing inside that you can give me."

All I have is the tone of your voice. Pictures on a refrigerator. Letters and postcards. A ring on a keychain. The flavor of sugar and cream. Ink on a wrist. A bobby pin on a bedside table, forgotten in haste to get back home before the absence is noticed..

We unite these things. Bring them together in our minds like little arranged marriages between practical items and emotional memories.

Separate, but equated.

Reminders in the music. Messages electronic. All but meaningless to the strangers we encounter in the lives we lead alone. Cultures apart, lost in translation

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I'm in the market for a new amplifier.
I've had this old Marshall practice amp for years. Here's how long it's been -- I was still married when I got it. It's too small to be useful at jams, it's fairly beat up, doesn't have a ton of sonic range, and to be perfectly honest -- I'm just kinda tired of it.
Guitarists are finicky bitches. We crave new equipment but then we hate what we buy. It's just sort of part of the territory. But the real problem is that guitar manufacturers know it, and they ply that shit against us. For example, I kinda knew this amp was too small when I got it, but it said Marshall on the front -- so that kinda tipped the scales when it came to making the decision.
Of course there were other factors involved (I had sold a bunch of my old gear when my son was born, so at that point any amp at all was preferable to nothing) -- but I look at it now and it's hard to escape the fact that I got wooed by the name-brandiness of it…

I live in a town named Jacksonville, Florida. You've probably heard of it.

We have an NFL team, they're doing pretty good this year. It's actually the largest city in the country in terms of land area -- but a lot of that space is taken up by the river. Still, when you see a map of the state we're one of the bigger dots. Not as big as Miami, or Tampa, mind you -- but certainly no backwater burg.

Sometimes though, this is a really little town.

Don't get me wrong -- there are really good people here. The weather's nice, the cost of living is low, and you can always get to a beach. It's got a checkered history like any other town in the south -- but for the most part, people try to get along. I've lived here a lot of years, and I have my share of complaints about it, but when all is said and done this place has become a home of sorts -- warts and all.

But if there's one thing that I can say for Jacksonville, it's that a large part of the town'…